photo: trokilinochchi
How many people inhabit the earth these days? According to estimates made by the U.S. Census bureau, as of yesterday, January 21, 2010, we had 6,797,900,000, give or take a few thousand. There are a lot of us.

This leads me to comment on the epiphany I had on my way to career counseling this morning (I’ll tell you about counseling next time). Actually, it’s just another version of an epiphany that I’ve had several times over, that the Universe, in all its wisdom, keeps tossing at me. Why? I suppose to make sure that I eventually remember it.

Here it is: We are all, every one of us, just souls wearing skin.

Now if you’re an atheist, stay with me. A “soul”, in the dictionary that is in my head, and therefore created by me, which I’m sure is some sort of abomination, is that thing that makes a person move around and do, think and say, all the glorious and stupid things he or she does, thinks and says.

Actually, I think real dictionaries include a description something like this. Oh crap, I’m confusing myself while writing this – I hate that.

The soul is the spark that comes from who knows where. We all have our own personal suspicions of how that spark occurs and where it comes from – that’s cool. That spark is what makes us human.

I’ve dug myself into a hole here – soul is a big concept.

OK. Let’s continue.

Souls wearing skin.

photo: iane machado

We (humans, me and you, all of us, except those who are incredibly enlightened) spend a huge amount of energy forgetting that we’re all the same. Introverts and extroverts. Jews and Muslims. Canadians and South Africans. Republicans and Democrats and Libertarians. Gays and straights. Pretties and uglies. All the differences are things we’re making a big deal about. And maybe we think all the hoopla is warranted, but if we could get past it, we’d probably all get along better.

I’m a prime example. I get so aggravated with people. People who don’t agree with me or think or act like me. What the hell is wrong with them?

Then sometimes I stop, and it hits me that they’re all struggling just like I am. And they’re all flawed, just like I am.

The rich movies stars? You bet. The people who hate Americans? Struggling and flawed – just like me. The homeless people who live on the streets of Detroit? Yup. People who don’t recycle their plastics? Uh huh.

Some of us live charmed lives in comparison to others. Some of us can’t understand why certain others of us are so weird. Some of us are hurt by that lack of understanding. Some of us are destined to live painful, frightening lives. Some of us are angry at those who don’t think like us.

It’s us.

We’re all on this planet together and there’s only one permanent way off (this is NOT a suggestion that anyone attempt suicide).

So. As an exercise in something – compassion, maybe – I’m going to try to keep this concept in mind as I go about my days and my interactions with other members of the human race.

Will I be successful? I think I have the ability to remind myself of this truth: that we’re all just trying to get through life and we’re all lost to varying degrees, and we’re all trying to put on faces to make ourselves look like we’ve got it handled, and all of us worry about things in the middle of the night when it’s dark.

photo: yumyumbubblegum

We all get a suit of skin to wear (not in the Silence of the Lambs way). And we all get a set of circumstances to make do with. Maybe we need to give each other a break once in a while.

There are surely going to be naysayers out there who complain that people are still going to be crappy to others. People are still going to fight about things. People will still take advantage of the system. People are stupid. People are going to rip each other off and take advantage of each other. Rich people are still going to act snooty, and poor people are still going to dress in clothes from thrift stores (hey, I LOVE thrift shops!). And they are going to look at each other with suspicion.

And it’s true that the world will probably always have bad people in it, who won’t look inside because they’re just too frightened of what they’ll find, or what the consequences of doing so will be. I get that.

But I’ve noticed that when I remember that others are as fragile, tired, hopeful, and scared as I am, or maybe more than I am, it makes me a better person. Regardless of what the rest of the almost 7 billion do.

Thanks for reading. I know you’ll share your thoughts. Share this post with others if you enjoyed it.